


Desert Wind

by OrmondSacker



Series: Beneath The Sun/Desert Wind [2]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Emotions, First Kiss, Fluff, Gentle Kissing, M/M, Mutual Pining, POV Chirrut Îmwe, Pining, Sparring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-07
Updated: 2017-03-07
Packaged: 2018-09-27 23:31:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10056959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OrmondSacker/pseuds/OrmondSacker
Summary: A sparring session in the desert reveals hidden feelings between Baze and Chirrut.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Yes this has the same summary as Beneath The Sun, because it's the exact same story. Only this time it's from Chirrut's pov. Why you ask? Because I idly brought up the idea in a comment and then Buttbuttbadoo asked very nicely. (So don't ever think writing comments or asking writers nicely telling them what you like, doesn't work. Sometimes, it does.)
> 
> It was a lot harder to write than I imagined it would be. Hope you enjoy it.
> 
> Edit: Re-uploaded because JuniorWoofles has been kind enough to look this over for my grammatical mistakes. Thank you for that.

The sun's light is warm against the skin of Chirrut's chest, the gentle desert breeze caressing him with insistent and distracting hands. Even more distracting is its whisper to him as the wind glides across Baze's naked torso, creating a vivid image in Chirrut's mind.

This isn't the first time Chirrut has found himself in a situation such as this. Baze have been doing this for over a year now. Tiny things, like removing his shirt for no real good reason, the way he would hold himself in a way that Chirrut can only describe as tempting, letting his fingers touch his own lips and linger there. The list goes on and on in Chirrut's mind, and it is slowly but surely driving him up the wall.

Because it never goes beyond that, the suggestiveness, the lead on, because just as suddenly as it has been begun, Baze will drop it again. Even though Chirrut has spent most of the past year encouraging him, has done everything except thrown himself into Baze's arms. He does after all have some dignity left, though Baze's incessant flirting is rapidly eroding what little there is left of it.

And all of this has lead to his current shirtless state. 

Chirrut doesn't normally enjoy it - the air currents feels worse than fabric across his sensitive skin - but he's desperate and at his wits end, rapidly reaching the conclusion that Baze for some reason is playing with him. 

He's been pushing that thought away for months. It's so inconsistent with who his friend otherwise is- Chirrut has never seen a mean or heartless bone in him, but why this then? Why so consistently play with him, just to let it drop before it goes anywhere?

No one can be this oblivious unless it's on purpose,  _ no one _ .

He can feel Baze's attention on him, almost sense his eyes gliding over the muscle if his naked torso.

"Do you really find it that hot?" Baze's voice light, warm and amused. It wraps itself around Chirrut's heart and he smiles widely. Only Baze can get this much out of him with so very little, because from him it feels like the world.

"You are the one that is always complaining that I don't take the weather into account when I dress. I thought I'd accommodate you." He stresses the last two words, silently praying that this time will be different.

Baze's eyes linger on him as the desert's wind swirls around them.

_ See me, Baze. I would accommodate you, in every way. Whatever you want of me, it's yours. _

Then Baze steps over to the rock where their staffs are leaning and the moment passes. Baze tosses Chirrut his. The movement of the air tells him where it is and he catches it without effort. As it strikes his palm, he feels his temper flare, lighting fast and equally hot.

_ Again, 'my friend'. How many times have you done this? How many times will you continue to do so? _

It is time this game comes to an end.

He spins on the ball of one foot until he's facing Baze, assumes a ready stance and waits. One way or another, Baze  _ will _ act.

But Baze as always waits, hesitates, but this time Chirrut is determined to wait him out. He hears the sand crunch, Baze's footsteps circling around behind Chirrut's back. Silence.

The air whines with swiftness as Baze's staff descends. Chirrut spins about and deflects it with ease. Another probe, brushed aside with equal effortlessness makes his anger flare hotter. Even in this Baze is only playing.

"Baze the cautious, Baze the studios. Always so careful aren't you?" Churrit sneers, giving voice to his anger and hurt, choosing what he knows will cut the deepest. As deep as Baze is cutting him.

"What?" comes Baze's stunned reply.

"Tell me, are you even trying? Or do you ever only play at things?" Chirrut keeps pushing.

"What the hell do you mean by that?" Now there's a hint of anger in Baze's voice. Finally some passion, but even that does not appease Chirrut in his current mood.

"Yes what could I conceivably mean? What have you been playing at lately?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about?" There is still a slight offense in Baze's voice, but Chirrut can almost hear it be pulled back under control. "Listen, let's stop the training and talk instead." 

Yes, there it is. Baze's control, always that. No, not today. He is beyond tired of Baze's self control.

"Ah yes, of course. Baze the reasonable. How could I forget him. How about we don't." He leaps at Baze, striking quickly, putting him on the defensive as he speaks.

A moment later, he finds himself pushed backwards as Baze's temper finally slips off its leash, though none of his blows gets through Chirrut's defenses.

"You want to throw accusations?" Baze growls, anger now clear in his voice. "Very well then. How about Chirrut the impertinent? Chirrut the reckless? Chirrut the child, who apparently throws a tantrum when he doesn't get his way."

Tantrum? Oh that's rich, after everything that Baze has put him through. Very well, as Baze seems to insist on ignorance, Chirrut will play along that much.

" _ Tantrum _ ? So I'm supposed to show endless patience with your antics and teasing, is that what you expected of me? Well since you seem so ill informed let me tell you that I am human and that my self restraint has limits to it.  _ So make up your mind! _ "

The last sentence comes out angrier and with far more passion and resentment than he had planned, so much that Baze falls back again and Chirrut can feel him pulling himself back under control.

Fury and frustration boils over in Chirrut's heart and he lashes out blindly against Baze.

"Chirrut, I really don't understand. What is it you want me to make up my mind about?" 

The honest confusion in Baze voice, the complete lack of comprehension cuts through Chirrut's ire and he too falls back, listening. Listening to his friend's shallow breath, the faint gulp as he swallows, the shifting of his feet on the sand. He knows how Baze sounds when he is sincere, not just his voice but all of his body and the last of his anger fades.

"You truly don't know?" Chirrut asks, unable and now unwilling, to keep surprise out of his voice.

"No." One word, so simply put that Chirrut cannot help but smile, a smile that grow wider and wider until it becomes a laugh.

He had truly thought no one could be that oblivious, but it seems that is exactly what Baze is. Had he truly not even known what he was doing? What he was putting Chirrut through? Had he managed to flirt without ever intending it?

' _ Chirrut the reckless _ ' indeed. So reckless he had been willing to throw their friendship overboard simply because he couldn't conceive of Baze truly being ignorant of his actions.

He hears the soft snort that from Baze signals both amusement and annoyance and Chirrut feels a wave of relief. Maybe this will be salvageable for him still.

"You truly don't. Forgive me then, I thought you were doing it on purpose." 

"Doing what?" 

"Tell me, why have you taken your shirt off?"

If he only can make Baze see what he's doing then maybe more can come of this still?

He tilts his head, listening intently for any hint of what is going on in Baze's mind.

"It's... warm?"

There is hesitancy in Baze's voice and Chirrut can hear him shift his feet upon the sand as if he's uncomfortable. This is not all of it then.

"Is that the only reason?" he prompts again, keeping his tone light, aiming for casual though he isn't sure he succeeds.

"What else should there be?" There is heaviness now, along with yearning and something that sounds oddly like despair to Chirrut.

And with that the pieces falls into place for Chirrut. A year’s worth of frustration, vain attempts of getting Baze's attention, or trying to figure why he didn't notice, suddenly makes sense. It isn't that Baze doesn’t see Chirrut, he thinks that Chirrut doesn’t see him.

Chirrut smiles. Baze is certainly wrong about that.

"You know," he says with studied casualness. "The air moves differently over naked skin than it does over fabric."

Now to see what Baze will do with that bit of information.

There is an audible swallow, followed by a rough voiced, "Really?"

"Yes." Chirrut can feel his smile widen, this certainly sounds promising. "Now are you certain that there is no other reason why you have your shirt off?"

From Baze he hears a small, sharp intake of breath, another gulp and the sound of him licking his lips. Then a slow, dragging exhale.

"I'm sorry," Baze says. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

"What gave you the idea that I'm uncomfortable with this?" Chirrut instantly asks in return, utterly puzzled.

"You never-" Baze's voice breaks off, but those two words had held a world of longing and heartache. And worry, more than all they had held worry.

Again Chirrut's world shifts. 

So this is why. This is why Baze has had his head so buried in the sand to all Chirrut's increasingly elaborate attempts at getting his attention.

_ You didn't want to lose me, did you my friend? No matter what it cost you, you wanted me comfortable. _

The thought humbles him and makes him ashamed of his words just moments ago. Accusing this man of being selfish?

But self recriminations won't heal the hurt he's caused, nor will it help heal a much older pain in Baze's heart. So Chirrut smiles as gently as he can and walks forward until his and Baze's chests are almost touching, before raising his hand and letting his fingertips touch his friend's cheek.

He cannot take back the words he said, much as he would love to, all he can do is try to mend their sting and heal what injuries they made.

"Baze the gentle. Baze the considerate. The one who will always put other people first and asks nothing for himself. Tell me, my brother, if you could have one thing of me what would it be?"

He puts his heart in those words, to let Baze know that he has nothing to fear in asking.

"I think you know what it is." Baze's voice is rough with emotions and hitches slightly as he speaks. Chirrut can feel a faint shiver run through him.

_ Oh, Baze. Still afraid, my heart? _

"Perhaps," Chirrut says mildly. "But I need to hear it. And you need to say it out loud."

_ You do need to my friend. You need to see that you have nothing to fear. I am sorry I blew up at you like that, let me show you that you don't need to be afraid. _

He's usually impatient and passionate, but neither will help Baze in this moment. So instead Chirrut leashes his eagerness, relaxing his muscles and composing himself in patience.

"I-" Baze starts only to break off, his breath coming fast and harsh to Chirrut's ears. "I can't. I don't want to lose your friendship."

The raw emotions in Baze's voice breaks Chirrut's heart. That he means this much to him. He has known for years that Baze thought highly of him, valued and desired his company as Chirrut valued and desired Baze's.

But not like this.

_ I don't deserve you. _

He presses his palm against Baze's cheek, willing his love of this man that is so much better than he, than anyone he's ever met, to flow through his hand, for Baze to feel it.

"That will never happen," he says, putting all his heart and conviction into his voice.

He hears the deep breath Baze takes, the loud swallow and feels the tension building in his body.

_ Trust me, my love. Leap and I'll catch you. _

"I want to kiss you."

And with that Baze relaxes, all the tension flowing out of his body and Chirrut feels his heart beginning to beat again.

"You can," he says.

Baze puts on arm around Chirrut's back as he leans down, pressing their lips together, In any other circumstances Chirrut would have let his passionate nature lead and have thrown himself into the kiss with all that he is. But he wants to handle Baze with care, treat him with the gentleness, affection and respect he deserves.

So Chirrut gentles the storm in his heart, lets it instead become a gentle zephyr as he leans upwards, kissing and nipping at Baze's lips.

The soft press of their lips, his hand on Baze's cheek, the feel of their chests against his other and the solid arms around his waist becomes his focus, to the point where all the rest of the world falls away and he takes no notice of it when he loses the grip on his staff.

When Baze pulls back it leaves Chirrut reeling, the softness having been so much more consuming for him than the strongest passion ever had. Every touch of the air on his skin feels like another tiny kiss, Baze's arms a solid bond surrounding him, holding him together.

It makes him feel light.

"When did you figure it out?" Baze asks, his voice bringing Chirrut back to his body and the present and he grins.

"It took a while. Far too long in fact." How long he isn't sure; one day he'll ask Baze exactly how long he was flirting with him while Chirrut was the oblivious one. But not right now. "But it was your blade practice with master Shi last summer. Your style changed when you realized I was there, you were showing off."

He recalls it vividly. Standing at the wall, enjoying the sound of the precise moments and then feeling Baze's eyes upon him – Chirrut always knows when Baze is looking at him, he's not sure how but he knows – and then that change. Everything Baze did suddenly became more elaborate, not the minimal precision from before and he had realized that his friend was showing off for him. After that, it hadn't taken long to connect the dots.

"I didn't realize you could see me. Not that well anyway," Baze says ruefully.

"And now that you do?"

In answer Baze runs his hand over Chirrut's back and Chirrut shivers at the touch, his skin still more sensitive than usual. But oh, how he enjoys it.

"It isn't just your hearing that is very keen, is it?" The note of interest in Baze's voice makes Chirrut's heart beat faster.

"No," he says.

Then Baze is pressing his lips against Chirrut's once more and Chirrut can feel his warm, wide sime.

"Really?" Baze says.

"Yes."

The touch of lips becomes another kiss, warm, soft and so tender Chirrut sighs against Baze's mouth. The deep affection flowing from Baze's lips makes Chirrut shiver again, he has never been cherished like this.

"You're suddenly very enthusiastic," he says. It isn't criticism, just an observation.

"It seems I have something to make up for," Baze replies.

'No', Chirrut wants to say. 'No, you have nothing to make up for', but the kisses swallows his words.

The desert wind still whispers around Chirrut, brushing his skin with its thousands of hands, but Chirrut is oblivious to its insistent touch. All he feels is Baze's arms around him and the soft kisses on his lips.


End file.
